


see this through

by basilleia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is just Lonely, Atsumu wears glasses in this, Character Study, Getting Together, M/M, Miya Atsumu Being an Idiot, Mutual Pining, Osamu is a great brother, POV Miya Atsumu, Pining Miya Atsumu, Roommates, Sickfic, brief mentions of BokuAka, i included which part it is in the a/n, mentions of migraines, mentions of vomit but it's a short scene, past AtsuKita - Freeform, pls they r so soft, side osasuna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilleia/pseuds/basilleia
Summary: Atsumu suddenly throws an arm across his face, saying, "God," followed by a disbelieving laugh that bubbles from his mouth. "I feel like I've cycled through so many emotions in the past couple of hours,"Sakusa quietly huffs a laugh of his own. "Sorry," He says, though he finds that he's not really sorry at all.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 104
Kudos: 2193





	see this through

**Author's Note:**

> After two months, I've finally managed to finish this! This is my first time writing for a ship that isn't BokuAka, so I'm really sorry if they characterization is kind of off?? I'm still navigating how to write Atsumu and Sakusa, and I feel like this could be a lot better, but I'm satisfied with it for now.
> 
> also: please take care to note that there is a vomit scene in this, starting from the line: "Atsumu holds up a finger while simultaneously..." until, "He must have drifted off at some point..." 
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> \- Basil

He shifts up the frames that were perched atop the tip of his nose for what felt like the enth time that day. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, shifting the duffel bag higher up his shoulder as he pushes open the doors to the gym, hearing the familiar squeak of shoes against the cemented court.

The world seems to stop for a moment as everyone takes the time to stare at him while he bends down to fix his shoelaces, the glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose once more. It isn't until he straightens back up that he notices the way everyone seems to be fixated on his face.

He pushes the corner of his glasses up, the movement somehow self-conscious. "What're you all starin' at me for?"

Bokuto is the first to break the silence. "Trying out a new look, Tsum-Tsum? It suits you," He grins. "But you should probably take them off for practice, you never know when you might take a ball to the face,"

Atsumu tilts his head in confusion. "Whadd'ya mean?"

"Glasses are a good look on you, Atsumu-san!" Comes Hinata's sunny grin.

He wonders why everyone seems to be so shocked to be seeing him in them, until he comes to a realization: "Is this the first time I've worn them around 'ya?"

Just then, Sakusa seemingly materializes out of thin air, the bottom half of his face lacking the piece of cloth that usually concealed the grim line of his mouth. "Whadd'ya think Omi-kun?"

The frown on Sakusa's face deepens even further. "Take them off. You look like an idiot,"

"Hey!" Atsumu shouts, indignant. "I'll need 'em for you to be able to spike, ya know?"

Sakusa's eyebrows come together to pinch a crease into the center of his forehead. "You mean you actually need those?" He pauses. Atsumu catches the barest hint of a smile hiding at the corners of his mouth. "I thought you were wearing them for the sake of being vain,"

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just that you're exactly the kind of jackass that would wear glasses because you think it adds _character._ I didn't think those were actually prescription," He says, amused.

Hinata interrupts him before Atsumu can come up with a retort. "Why haven't we seen you in them before?" He pipes, reaching over to stretch his other leg from his spot on the floor.

He shrugs. "Beats me— but I never had a reason to wear 'em around durin' practice. I happened to run outta my contacts this morning and I needa go visit my optometrist for new ones,"

Which wasn't a lie, technically. The truth was, he actually had one last pair left, but he was running a little later than usual. In his haste to put them on, he had accidentally dropped one lens down the sink.

"Is it safe for you to practice in those?" Hinata frowns. "My teammate used to own a pair specifically so they wouldn't go flying off of his face,"

"Yer sweet, Shou-kun. But since I usually wear contacts whenever I play, I never bothered with buyin' another pair," Not to mention, he thought he'd look kind of stupid in them.

Atsumu didn't start wearing glasses until after high school. Late nights in the dark with his eyes trained on his computer screen as he replayed matches and watched gameplays had predictably, fucked up his eyesight.

Osamu had finally dragged him to go see an optometrist after having had enough of hearing his brother whine about a migraine he'd had that lasted a whole week. An hour and a half later, he had emerged from the shop with a new prescription for glasses he hadn't even known he needed, along with several sets of disposable contact lenses.

Since then, any time Atsumu went without his glasses longer than an hour, he was practically begging for a migraine.

Amidst his busy schedule, it had completely slipped his mind to restock on lenses.

The first time he had worn his glasses, it was like his world had suddenly turned HD. He had taken one look at the trees on the sidewalk and screamed, _"Holy shit, 'Samu! Is that what the leaves normally look like to 'ya?"_ —To anyone who doesn't wear them, the statement wouldn't make any sense, but to anyone whose grade was even as low as 50 to 75 knew exactly what Atsumu was talking about.

Though recently, his headaches were growing more-and-more frequent, a telltale sign that it was time for him to get his eyes refracted again. —But between going to practice and having to shoot for brand deals as the season was beginning to pick up, he could barely find the time to go.

Come to think of it, Atsumu doesn't think he's ever practiced wearing his glasses. _Ever._ This could go down in either one of two ways: It was either practice carried on like usual, or, this could be a complete disaster.

"Keiji and I went to the mall the other day so we could find him new frames. What grade do you wear, 'Tsumu?"

Atsumu shoots Bokuto an odd glance. "'m not sure. Can't remember the last time I went to go get it checked,"

"Can I try them on?"

Atsumu shrugs, leaning forward. "Be my guest,"

Bokuto bounds over eagerly, his hands gingerly sliding the frames off his face. He flips them over so that the inside is facing him before sliding them on. Atsumu has to blink a few times to let his eyes readjust, squinting.

Bokuto winces. "Jeez dude! You're practically blind! When I tried Keiji's on, I could still see things pretty well, but I can barely make out shapes in these," He slips them off his face hurriedly, flipping them back around so that they face Atsumu once more before pushing them up his nose for him.

Atsumu _knows._ He can barely see anything whenever he doesn't have them on. "Yeah, it's gettin' pretty bad. 'M thinkin' of gettin' surgery for 'em, maybe sometime durin' off-season,"

Sakusa is still staring. When he opens his mouth, he says,"Try not to take any balls to the face today, Miya,"

Atsumu's attention immediately snaps towards him. "Aw, Omi-Omi! Could it be that yer worried about me? I'm touched,"

Sakusa rolls his eyes, turning away.

"Anyway, the only balls I want in my face are y—"

Meian is quick to interject. "Atsumu, I'm begging you not to finish that sentence. If you walk out of practice here today with a pair of broken glasses and a black-eye, I can't say I'd feel sorry for you. Start getting warmed up,"

"I hear ya captain," Atsumu winks. "Bokkun, help me out will ya? I need to stretch,"

Bokuto eagerly walks with him to a spot on the court a good distance away from the rest of the team before moving to sit on the floor.

Atsumu doesn't have a problem stretching despite his glasses, opting to fold them in and tuck them into the collar of his shirt. He figures that practicing with them on shouldn't be too much of a problem. Granted, he hadn't even actually gotten to the real part yet.

He listens to Bokuto recite yet another anecdote about Akaashi as he presses a hand into the middle of Atsumu's back, guiding him forward to the space between his legs. Bokuto was so disgustingly in love with him, it made Atsumu want to hurl.

"You know, when we were walking around in the mall the other day, we passed by this jewelry store, and I took a good look at this one ring that they had upfront in one of the displays while Keiji went to the bathroom, and it got me thinking,"

Atsumu pushes up and off of the floor so that he's sitting straight, before placing his legs in front of him to reach for his toes. "I think I might propose soon,"

Atsumu sits up so quickly that he feels a sharp twinge in his lower back, wincing. He scrambles to put his glasses back on his face. "Could'ya say that again, Bokkun?" He squints up at Bokuto who's standing over him, hands on his waist as he stares at something distant.

Bokuto continues. "I really wanna buy a ring, but it's going to be hard for me to do that with the paps lingering around every corner, even more so than usual since we're in season. I kinda don't want them spoiling my proposal, ya know? So I guess it'll have to wait,"

Atsumu blinks up at him, the expression on his face a little stupid.

Meian-san was married and was expecting his first kid, but it was weird to think that Bokuto— who acted more like a 5-year-old most of the time, was actually making grown-up decisions. It hits him suddenly, how he's not so young anymore.

Atsumu can't even remember the last time he'd been on a proper date, and yet here was Bokuto talking about the possibility of getting married. Bokuto was only a year older than him, and yet...

The last relationship Atsumu had been in was with Kita, and it had lasted a good year. He hadn't dated anyone since then, and that was well over 2 years ago, and while it hadn't exactly been messy, it wasn't mutual. Kita wanted to break up, and Atsumu didn't, —but if it was what he wanted then Atsumu could respect that.

When Osamu asked him about it, he had tried to excuse his virtually non-existent love life on account of being focused on his career— but even Hinata had his own relationship with Kageyama going for him, and as far as he knew, the other team members had someone to come home to every night.

Well, all except for one— but Atsumu hadn't even considered the possibility of having a chance at all with Sakusa. It had been a while since he had come to terms with the fact that he had feelings for the prickly outside hitter, but he had no intention of doing anything with them. He was perfectly content with things as they were, thank you.

That being said, Atsumu wasn't really interested in anyone else, and he wasn't actively seeking to be, either.

He couldn't deny the fact that he caught himself feeling lonely more often, nowadays, but nothing a phone call with Osamu where they would bicker for a few hours couldn't fix. 

Though since Osamu had gotten together with Suna, he had found that he did so less and less. —It seemed more counterproductive now to do so, conversations between the two of them now serving to exacerbate any feelings he already had of being miserable.

Having said all that, maybe Atsumu was long overdue for a date, but the only guy he wants to go on a date with can't even stand him. 

So really, he was doomed.

"Tsum-Tsum? Were you listening to me?"

"I heard ya loud and clear,"

"Okay, well— we're going to start running laps soon, so you should probably put your stuff in your locker and change into your shoes,"

Atsumu gives him a wordless nod, extending his hand only for Bokuto to pull him up without a second thought.

"You okay dude?"

"Don't ya worry 'bout me Bokkun, —I'm really happy for ya. Tell me if ya need any help with Akaashi-kun,"

Bokuto grins, clapping a hand down right into the center of Atsumu's back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. "I'll probably need all the help I can get. Knowing me, and knowing Keiji, it's going to be really hard for me to keep it on the down low,"

Atsumu shoots him an easy smile. "We'll figure it out,"

When he returns from the locker room having changed out of his regular trainers, everyone has huddled around Coach Foster across the court. He lightly jogs over, stopping beside Sakusa who spares him no more than a glance. "Catch me up, Omi-Omi, what's goin' on?"

"If you would keep quiet and listen then I'm sure you can put two-and-two together,"

Atsumu lets out a huff before crossing his arms over his chest, shifting his weight between his two feet.

"I've already told you all of this before, but I'd just like to remind you all that since the season is starting to pick up, we're going to start conditioning more often,"

Atsumu has to bite back a groan. Regular conditioning was already a nightmare, but competition season brought about an all-new-different kind of hell altogether.

"We'll focus on conditioning today, and then if you all have any energy left in you, we'll play a game or two. Have I made myself clear?" Upon the team expressing various degrees of affirmation, he continues. "As for warming-up, carry on like usual. You all know the drill, start by jogging,"

It all goes downhill from there. When he starts working up a slight sheen of sweat a mere five minutes later, he can barely keep his glasses on his face, having to resort to keeping a finger on the bridge of his nose in order to avoid them from slipping off completely.

Inunaki is beside him, grinning upon seeing the scowl on Atsumu's face. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Atsumu grits, having no choice but to continue.

"Why don't you just take them off?"

"I think yer severely underestimating just how badly I need 'em. If I take these off I might just slip and fall on my face,"

"Exactly why you shouldn't wear them," He barks out a laugh at the way Atsumu's expression sours even more.

At least Hinata has the decency to actually be concerned. "Atsumu-san, that can't be too comfortable for you, are you sure you can practice in those?"

"I gotta agree with Hinata, we're only jogging but you're already struggling. How are you going to do everything else?" Bokuto pipes.

"I'll worry about that after we finish jogging," Atsumu huffs, unable to move his finger from where he's firmly pressing it against the bridge of his nose.

It doesn't help that these glasses were old. He had gotten them around the same time that he had broken up with Kita, having had them for a good two years. The hinges holding the arms into place were loose, no longer holding up the lenses close to his face with as much efficiency as before.

He really needed to make that appointment.

What's more, his glasses start to fog up not too soon after, forcing him to stop every once in a while to wipe them down before sliding them back on.

By the time the 15 minutes are up, his mood has soured considerably with no hope for return.

The rest of the team exchange uneasy glances at Atsumu's silence. A quiet Atsumu is never a good one.

Right after jogging, they move straight to drills, which aren't so bad, until they have to start digging.

Atsumu's glasses come flying right off his face the moment he finishes the smooth roll of his muscles and his body comes into contact with the ground.

He lets out a colorful string of curses as he sits back on his knees, blinking at the way his surroundings have become blurry.

To put things into perspective as to just how _bad_ his eyesight is, he's not really sure _who_ that is standing a few feet away from him.

And because Atsumu is a stubborn asshole, he can't bring it in himself to ask for help from literally _anyone._ He bites the inside of his cheek, frustrated. " _Motherfucker—"_

Not even a second later, he hears Coach Foster's voice booming across the court. "Atsumu! What the hell are you doing, sitting around on the ground for?"

His jaw clenches so tightly that his teeth end up hurting.

Unbeknownst to him, his glasses have landed right by Sakusa's feet, a good distance away. He glances down at the clear frames before looking back at Atsumu who's still seated on the floor, looking more and more agitated with each passing second.

Just as Inunaki was about to bend down in order to pick them up, Sakusa moves first. Much to his surprise, Sakusa wordlessly slips his hand underneath his shirt to work as some kind of makeshift glove before walking over to where Atsumu is kneeling on the floor.

Atsumu startles at the presence he feels in his periphery before he registers the neon-colored dry-fit t-shirt. "Omi-omi has come to willingly stand near me? Who should I be thanking?"

"Yourself, for your shitty eyesight. Here," Sakusa extends his hand through the fabric of his shirt.

Atsumu blinks in surprise, hands coming up to take them from him, careful not to let their fingers touch. Once his glasses have found their way back on to his face, Atsumu is greeted by the sight of Sakusa's unimpressed face.

Atsumu has a fleeting thought that Sakusa looks good, looking down at him like that.

There are several things that Atsumu would never admit out loud, but this is one of them: He actually likes the fact that Sakusa is taller than him. 

Once the thought registers, Atsumu scrambles for his feet, straightening up to his full height, ~~loving~~ hating the way that he has to tilt his chin back slightly to be able to look Sakusa in the eye. "Thanks,"

"Atsumu!" Coach Foster beckons him over. "What's the matter with you today?"

Atsumu then proceeds to explain the situation, and Coach Foster nods along in understanding. "I'm letting you off practice early today," Before he could even begin to argue, his coach cuts him off with a sigh. "From what you've told me, I've gathered that the problem here is that you didn't find the time. I'm giving you the rest of the afternoon off so you can go and sort out whatever it is that you need to do,"

Atsumu sighs, defeated. A glance at the clock tells him that a mere hour has passed since practice has started. But seeing as his afternoon has just made itself free, he now has no excuse not to go. "Right. Thank you, sir,"

Coach claps a hand on to his shoulder. "Get on outta here,— and don't forget, we have that away game this weekend against Raijin, so you best get this sorted out as soon as possible, alright?"

He nods, before turning and making his way over to the locker rooms.

On his way out, Bokuto stops him. "Hey man, where are you headed off to?"

"Coach gave me the afternoon off so I could go and get my eyes checked,"

"Aw, man! I'll miss you," He pouts.

Atsumu shakes his head with a laugh, shoving at his shoulder. "You'll live," With that, he turns to leave. "See 'ya later,"

"Later!" Bokuto waves, before jogging away.

Atsumu doesn't notice the lingering pair of eyes that watch him go.

Later on that afternoon, Atsumu emerges from the shop with a new pair of glasses and a stock of lenses good enough to last him the next month. He sets a reminder on his phone a week before he's scheduled to run out of his contacts so that he could clear out some time in his schedule to restock.

He's never had to set himself a reminder before, but he's adamant about not having a repeat of practice today—and yet, he still refuses to buy himself a pair of sports glasses. He'd be caught dead before anybody could see him in those.

The first time around, he had tried on a pair to see whether he would like them better than his contacts for playing, but upon Osamu's shriek of laughter, he had ultimately decided to go with the latter.

Speaking of Osamu, Atsumu was hungry.

It was still relatively early. Figuring he may as well kill some time before he went and ate dinner, he takes a detour.

Pushing open the door to the small store, he isn't surprised to see that the store is empty, knowing that business is slow around this time of the day. 

"Give me one second," the figure behind the counter says, his back facing Atsumu as he busies himself with something that Atsumu can't see.

He makes himself comfortable on one of the stools by the counter, hooking his bag on one of the notches underneath the countertop. Once he straightens back up in his chair, the figure is now facing him.

"Oh, it's you," He deadpans.

"Arent'cha happy to see me?"

"My day could have gone without it,"

"'Samu, it's been so long since ya last saw me,"

"I saw you last week,"

"Has it only been a week? It sure felt like longer," Atsumu's visits have lessened in frequency alongside his phone calls, only showing up once a week— twice if he was feeling up to it, compared to before, he used to visit five days a week out of seven. This has to do with the fact that his brother had chosen to move in with his boyfriend into the apartment above his shop 6 months prior.

"Whadd'ya want?" In his brother's presence, the familiar accent bleeds out in annoyance.

"What, you think I actually came here just to see ya? Go on and whip something up for me, will ya?"

Osamu rolls his eyes, though turns around to face the workbench anyway in order to put together an onigiri for him to eat. "New glasses?"

"Yep. I was s'posed to get the clear ones again, ya know? But I tried these on and decided I liked them better. My prescription went up, by the way— apparently, I'm now considered legally blind. I should apply for a PWD card,"

"What's the point of puttin' yerself through that kinda trouble if yer plannin' on getting Lasik soon, anyway?"

"So I can get a discount from ya every time I came here,"

"'s not like you pay me, anyway. Wouldn't make much of a difference,"

"Ya never asked me to," Atsumu gives him a pointed look over the metal edge of his new glasses.

"I might just start," Osamu finishes folding up the seaweed to encase the rice, forming a neat little triangle before facing his brother once more and setting the plate down in front of him, alongside a glass of water.

"Yer not so bad when yer not bein' a jackass," Atsumu eagerly bites into the snack, munching happily.

Osamu raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Right, that'll be 1000 yen,"

"For a fuckin' onigiri?" Atsumu exclaimes, incredulous.

Osamu merely shrugs his shoulders in responses, but doesn't insist any further. He braces himself forward on the counter. "Did'ja have to pick the hipster ones?"

Atsumu is still chewing, and his hands are occupied, so he settles for using the back of his hand to re-situate them on his face. Osamu recognizes the gesture as one of self-consciousness. "They aren't bad, but couldn't'cha have found another pair?"

"Well, ya weren't there, this time around, and I thought these looked good on me," Atsumu doesn't look at him as he shrugs, chewing intently.

"You coulda texted me, or somethin',"

"I figured you'd be busy,"

Osamu spares him a careful look. "And since when have ya ever cared about that?" He chooses his next words very carefully. In the end, he settles with "'Tarou said you should come over more often," in his own roundabout way of saying that he doesn't really mind, having Atsumu around.

Atsumu feels the tension ease out of his shoulders. Without having to say anything at all, of course Osamu just _knows._ "Where is he?"

"He should be here soon,"

Truth be told, the bell chimes a split-second later, signaling someone's arrival.

Osamu looks at the entrance, a small smile on his face, his expression one that can only be described as disgustingly _soft._ "Welcome home,"

He remembers his conversation with Bokuto earlier in the day, frowning at his now empty plate—once again reminded of how painfully single he is.

He's so deep into his thoughts that he doesn't even notice that Rintarou has now made his way next to Osamu behind the counter, now munching on his own onigiri. "Alright, spit it out would ya? What's got you so bothered that you actually came to see me in person instead of just giving me a call like you usually do?"

"Bokkun's getting married,"

"Well hello to you too, Atsumu. Are those new glasses?" Suna drawls, smiling through a mouthful of food.

Atsumu nods in lieu of an actual response.

"Okay, and? What's that hafta do with you?"

Before he could answer, Atsumu is interrupted by Suna's voice, carrying in a lazy lilt. "I was wondering when you'd start to freak out,— frankly, I'm just surprised you managed to last this long,"

Osamu's eyebrows come to pinch together in the center of his forehead. "Freak out about what?"

"Babe, when was the last time Atsumu's been on a date?"

"...Not since Kita-san,"

"Which was?"

Before Osamu can answer, Atsumu is quick to interject. "I'm still here, ya bunch of assholes! You know, if ya didn't bully me this much, then maybe I would consider swinging by more often,"

Osamu merely shrugs his shoulders in response. "Yer especially sensitive today," 

Rintarou hooks his chin over his boyfriend's shoulder. "Which is saying a lot, really," 

Atsumu's jaw drops. The audacity! "You!" He points an accusatory finger at his brother. "Were ya fuckin' with me when ya said Sunarin wanted me to come over? 'Cos it sure as hell doesn't seem like it,"

The couple rolls their eyes at the same time, and Atsumu physically recoils at how synchronized they are.

"You know, after the two of you broke up, 'Samu and I were expecting you to spiral,"

Honestly, Atsumu was surprised he handled it that well, too. But he wasn't going to say that. "Y'know what? Fuck you,—"

Osamu is quick to cut him off. "But you didn't, so good job,"

Atsumu hadn't even realized the way he had straightened up, relaxing before hunching over the countertop once more. "I think if it had been anyone else, I would have," He admits, unexpectedly earnest.

Kita was good for him. Especially with the way that it was Atsumu's first real relationship, he was glad that Kita had been the one to teach him what it meant to be with another person.

"Did you ever find out why he wanted to break up with you?" Osamu asks, voice carefully even. He pointedly ignores the way Suna's chin digs into his shoulder.

Atsumu shakes his head no. "He just said he didn't see it as a long-term relationship," the words taste bitter on his tongue, though Atsumu couldn't say that he had disagreed completely. "Besides, if it was what he wanted, I could respect that," He reiterates, echoing his thoughts from early on in the day. 

After a beat of silence, he adds, "I wasn't going to force him to stay,"

The couple blink at him, taken aback.

"What?" Atsumu snaps, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose self-consciously.

"Nothing," Suna says, knowing better than to say what was on his mind. Osamu, on the other hand, says "That's actually... very mature of you. Wasn't expectin' that, to be honest,"

"Well _fuck me!_ I guess there isn't anything even _remotely_ redeemable about me, huh?"

"Do ya seriously want me to answer that?"

"Yer a piece of shit," Atsumu seethes.

"You set yourself up for that one,"

Rintarou is quick to change the topic before the argument can escalate any further. "Okay, enough of that. The real question here is, what's stopping you from getting into another relationship?"

Atsumu is suddenly overtaken by a memory: a warm day in spring, and a bench on a park, where Kita had uttered the words, _"I'm breaking up with you because I don't see this going on for much longer. There are clearly parts of you that you aren't ready to share with anyone else, and I've been patient with you, but I feel more like a parent to you than an actual partner,"_

Their dynamic was simple, if not a little boring: there had been an unspoken line drawn between them, some sort of boundary whereby the both of them had reached a mutual understanding that neither of them was going to cross it,— or was it that Atsumu had unknowingly put up a barrier between them?

Perhaps there was a small piece of information that he had regretted to mention.

See, the reason why Kita couldn't see their relationship lasting is that Atsumu does this thing where he fools people into thinking that he's an open-book by oversharing about more superficial, personal (but not really) things, when in reality, Atsumu couldn't be assed to talk about his feelings. —To summarize, Atsumu hadn't felt comfortable enough with him to allow himself to be vulnerable.

Which would also explain why he hadn't fought all that hard to try and get Kita to stay. When the older man had sat down next to him on that bench, patiently explaining to Atsumu that he was hard to reach, Atsumu had also come to realize that maybe he wasn't quite ready to be in a relationship, after all.

He must have been silent for quite some time, if Suna's slightly impatient, "Well?" was anything to go by.

Atsumu blinks, startled. "I'm... not looking for one,"

"Until now, that is," Rintarou points out, his onigiri long gone, his arms now winding around Osamu's waist. Atsumu tries not to stare.

Osamu squints at his brother, sensing something amiss. "Yer holdin' out on somethin',"

 _Shit._ Atsumu slumps back in his seat, aiming for nonchalance and instead looking mildly constipated. "Relax,"

"Who's the unlucky bastard?" Osamu presses, though he might already have an idea.

Atsumu inwardly lets out a sigh of relief, glad that his brother didn't think anything was amiss about what he had told him about his break-up. "I don't know what yer talkin' about,"

"I'm talkin' about the guy who's unfortunate enough to have you like them,"

"Hey! I'll have ya know, I'm a real catch,"

"Aha! So there _is_ someone," The grin that Suna aims at him is dangerously sharp at the edges.

Before Osamu could press further, the bell chimes, signaling the arrival of a customer. "I'll be with you in a bit," Before he leaves, he points a finger at his brother, glaring. "This isn't over,"

Rintarou cups his hands over his boyfriend's shoulders in reassurance. "It's okay, I'll handle it,"

While Osamu is busy tending to a customer, Atsumu and Suna are left to their own devices. "So? Who is it,"

Atsumu crosses his arms over his chest, sipping from his water.

"Is it someone from your team?"

Atsumu rolls his eyes, continuing to gulp down his water.

"You don't have the time to go out and meet anyone new, so it probably _is_ someone from your team. It isn't Hinata again, is it?"

Atsumu's glass hits the countertop with an audible thunk. _"Again?"_

"Yeah? Come on, 'Tsumu. Isn't he with Kageyama from the Adlers—?"

Atsumu cuts him off before he can continue. "It's not him," He grits.

Suna gives him a deadpan look, as if to say ' _seriously?'_ "Oh thank god, anyway is it—?"

Atsumu holds up a hand. "Hold that thought, whadd'ya mean _again?"_

Once upon a time, Atsumu _may or may not_ have had a crush on a certain ginger-haired opposite hitter, but he hadn't told anyone about it—especially after finding out that Hinata was in a long-term relationship, effectively dismissing any thoughts he had about having a chance with him.

Suna gives him a weird look. "'Samu told me,"

"I didn't tell 'Samu _shit,"_ he spits.

Suna's mouth forms a little 'o', before he shrugs, saying, "I mean, you weren't exactly subtle. Even back in high school, you were dead set on setting for him one day, and that's great and all, but—"

"Stop talking," _Not subtle._ What the fuck?

His mind then proceeds to throw itself into a frenzy upon the possibility of Sakusa knowing, which, oh no— would explain why the outside hitter couldn't stand him— but _no,_ he couldn't know. Atsumu made sure to flirt with everyone _equally_ so that it came across as more of a personality trait instead of him _actually_ hitting on him. "I'm gonna throw up," He mutters.

"Okay, 'm back, what happened? Why do you look like yer about to hurl?"

"It's most likely someone from his team, although the only thing I've managed to figure out is that is that it's not Hinata, which is a relief—"

"That's good to hear, maybe yer not so stupid after all. But I thought about it, and— You said it was a teammate?"

Atsumu's head snaps up from where he was staring intently at a chip in the varnish of the countertop. When he makes eye-contact with Osamu, he knows, without the other having to say anything at all, that he's been found out. _"Don't say it,"_

"I don't have to listen to you," Osamu snorts, picking up his glass to refill it with water. "Yer not _completely_ stupid, but yer still stupid. Are ya serious, 'Tsumu? Yer hopeless," he shakes his head, setting the newly filled glass back down next to him.

"What? _What?_ Who is it?" Suna's eyes flit frantically between his boyfriend and his brother.

Osamu opens his mouth, and Atsumu shoots his brother a sharp look. "Don't you _dare,"_ It's no use, Osamu's never listened to him: Which is why, without breaking eye-contact at all, he utters the two words, six syllables, "Sakusa Kiyoomi,"

Utterly ruthless. 

Rinatarou is stunned into silence.

Atsumu desperately wants the ground to swallow him up whole. He doesn't even have the energy to question how Osamu knows, because _of course_ he does. "Did'ja have to tell him?" He cries, outraged. "We have a game this weekend!"

"So? Yer hot shit or whatever, I don't see how somethin' as trivial as this would pose to be an issue,"

Suna manages to collect his thoughts enough to say, "Atsumu, _why?—_ Not that there's anything wrong with liking Sakusa-kun, it's just that, well— don't you that's a little ambitious?"

"First of all: I'm not answering that. Second of all: fuck you, are ya sayin' that he's outta my league?"

Suna makes a point not to answer his question. "Would you tell us for how long, at the very least?"

Atsumu purses his lips. "Coupl'a months?"

Actually, he might have subconsciously repressed his emotions for an even longer period of time, but it came to him as he was hit with the all-consuming need to want to— _have to_ touch Sakusa as he scored a point by a particularly _nasty_ cut-shot.

Then he thought about why he wanted to touch him so bad, which, really, was his first mistake, and then he was suddenly struck with the overwhelming realization that he actually _liked_ him.

"What made you realize?" It was Osamu who wanted to prod this time.

Atsumu gives an agitated little huff. "Can we not talk about this?"

"Do we needa have another conversation about how unhealthy it is to keep yer emotions bottled up? Seriously, 'Tsumu. How many times do I have to tell ya this—?"

Man, fuck this guy. "Y'know what? I was gonna ask the two of ya if you wanted to grab dinner together, but I've had it up to here," Atsumu pauses to hold his hand side-ways horizontally beside his eye. "With the both of you shittin' on me for today," He bends down to pick up his bag. When he stands back up, he fixes Osamu with the most indifferent expression he could muster. "It's no wonder I don't call ya anymore, or come by as often,"

He turns around, decidedly ready to go home for the day. He ignores his brother's voice, beckoning him to come back. Any other time, he would probably be fine, but he was feeling like shit as it was. He was not in the mood to unpack any of his emotional baggage. "See ya durin' the weekend, Sunarin," He bids over his shoulder, before exiting the store completely.

Neither of them try to follow him.

By the time he gets back to the team's shared apartment building, it's already six, and in his haste to get home, it completely slips his mind to buy himself some food.

He sighs, shaking his head as he fishes his keys from his pocket. He climbs the stairs that lead to his floor, nearly bumping into someone on their way down.

"My bad," He glances up from where his eyes have been trained on the floor only to be met with a familiar near-black. "Oh," He balks. "Omi-kun, it's you," Although the two of them happened to live in the same vicinity, Atsumu would argue that he rarely ever saw Sakusa outside of practice.

Rather, Atsumu doesn't see him as often as he would like to, but he wasn't going to simply invite himself into Sakusa's place, acknowledging that his home was sacred grounds.

If Sakusa was ever going to trust him enough to step foot in it someday, he wants to earn that right.

"Miya," Sakusa greets, his voice even, steely eyes trained on the setter's face, the bottom half remaining hidden.

As much as Atsumu would have wanted to get to know him better, he'd never actually asked Sakusa out on a date. He was persistently annoying about everything else— sure, he'd milk the _hell_ out of practice by interacting with Sakusa, generous in both his tosses and compliments, but Sakusa never seemed to spare him much more than a glance whenever he did.

Atsumu found that the only way he could get Sakusa to talk to him first is if he tossed sloppily, but he hadn't exactly reached that level of desperation yet, and he figures that he'd much rather see Sakusa satisfied than not.

If it were anyone else, Atsumu probably wouldn't care much about whether or not he was an annoyance, but this was Sakusa, and he actually wanted him to like him, and so it couldn't hurt if he was just a _tad_ bit more considerate.

The two of them continue to stare at each other, Sakusa a step higher, before Atsumu side-steps to let him pass.

Sakusa eyes him carefully, and Atsumu is briefly shocked at how Sakusa doesn't immediately take the opportunity to leave. "I see that you were able to get your eyes checked,"

"Uh," He blinks, unable to hide his surprise now that Sakusa was willingly initiating the conversation. "Yeah," He shifts his shopping bag into his other hand. "Stocked up on the contacts, too,"

Sakusa nods, the movement stiff. Whereas the clear ones he had on earlier were chunky and swallowed up his face, these frames were of thin, golden metal. Regardless, Sakusa begrudgingly thinks that he looks good in both, but the gold in the new pair complimented his skin tone quite nicely.

"Omi-kun?" Atsumu blinks, tilting his head to the side. "Is there something on my face?"

Sakusa belatedly realizes that he was staring. He clears his throat before looking away, "No," comes the awkward reply.

Atsumu squints at him, a theory beginning to form in his head. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, he's interrupted by the sound of a low growl, the sound of it loud in the silence of the empty staircase.

He freezes, eyes widening, and Sakusa's eyes are back on him once more— the two moles above his eye shifting higher with the way he lifts an eyebrow. He coughs, embarrassed, and decides that he no longer wants to stick around. —Especially with the way that the remnants of his last conversation were still fresh in his mind.

Any other time, he would be thrilled to linger, but he's had a long day, and he wants to tap out, dinner be damned. —Besides, his eyes still need to adjust to his new glasses, and he can already feel the beginnings of a headache, god forbid it turns into a migraine.

He feigns a yawn, angling his body sideways so as not to touch Sakusa as he climbs past him. "I'm gonna go sleep now, my head hurts. See ya tomorrow, Omi-omi,"

Atsumu doesn't bother turning around, and once he's finally in his apartment with the door firmly shut behind him, he breathes a sigh of relief.

He toes off his shoes, walking into his living room where he sets down his things on the coffee table before promptly collapsing on to the couch.

Without much thought, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Sometime later, he's woken up by the sound of his doorbell. He stumbles on his feet as he makes his way towards the door, rubbing at one of his eyes as he twists the door handle and pulls the door open.

He blinks at the person standing at his front door, his sleep-addled mind having difficulty comprehending. "Omi-kun? What are you doing here?"

Was he still asleep?

Sensing movement in his periphery, he glances down, staring at the container being held out in front of him.

When Atsumu doesn't move, Sakusa makes an impatient sound. "Just take it,"

Immediately, Atsumu's hands enclose around the rectangular box, careful not to let their fingertips brush. "What's this?"

"Yakisoba. Your headache isn't going to go away if you don't eat,"

If Atsumu wasn't awake before, he certainly was now. "Did'ja make it?"

Sakusa seems to hesitate before answering, his mouth pulling into a grimace. "...Yeah,"

Atsumu's face pulls into a rare, genuine smile. Sakusa swallows. "Aw, Omi-kun! What's got ya actin' so nice to me today, hm?" He remembers what he meant to say earlier (before having been rudely interrupted by the sound of his own stomach), and his smile turns into one of his normal, shit-eating grins. "Is it the glasses?"

"No," Sakusa snaps.

"Ya answered a little bit too quickly there, Omi-Omi. Had I known this was all it took, I woulda let you see me in them earlier,"

"I'm leaving," Sakusa turns around to make his way back towards his own door.

"Wait!"

He stops, hands in his pockets as he looks back at the blond over his shoulder. Atsumu seems to hesitate, before uttering the words, "D'you wanna come in?"

Atsumu laughs out loud at the look of utter distaste on Sakusa's face. He shrugs. "I thought so," Then, a bit more flustered, he says, "Thank you,"

Sakusa wordlessly turns around, the movement swift.

Atsumu watches him as he disappears into his own apartment, lingering at his own doorway for a while, before retreating back inside his own.

Only minutes later, Atsumu sits at his coffee table, the container that was once full now empty. He swallows his last mouthful of food, before finally allowing himself to smile.

He thinks, perhaps this day hadn't turned out so bad after all.

* * *

The rest of the week passes by uneventfully. Practice goes by smoothly now that he's restocked on the contact lenses, and he's appreciating the newfound clarity of his eyesight as much as he can before it inevitably turns shit again.

In other news, Atsumu made a conscious decision to avoid Sakusa instead of actively trying to get closer to him despite the latter having brought him dinner on Monday. In the past few days, Atsumu hasn't tried to engage into a conversation with him more than necessary, — though he doubts Sakusa notices or cares.

In fact, he's probably relieved.

Aside from that, Atsumu has steadily been ignoring his brother's texts all week.

Granted, Osamu hadn't sent more than a few, but he hasn't bothered replying to any of them— their conversation early on in the week regrettably causing some old self-esteem issues that he had fought to keep a lid on to resurface.

Suna's also sent him quite a few texts throughout the week, but ultimately he receives the same treatment as his boyfriend.

Currently, it's Friday night. After having opened his fridge to find that he was due for a grocery run, he has no choice but to order takeout for dinner.

He's about to dial the phone number to one of his go-to restaurants, he's interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at his door.

Figuring it's just Bokuto coming to hang-out again while Akaashi is busy with work and is therefore unable to provide him with attention, he doesn't think much about it as he moves to open the door.

Upon registering who it is, he feels his face immediately fall flat. "What're you doing here?"

Osamu ignores him in favor of shouldering past his brother and toeing off his shoes at the genkan. "You weren't answering any of my texts," Afterwards, he disappears into Atsumu's kitchen.

Atsumu sighs, suddenly feeling very tired, but follows Osamu into the kitchen anyway, where he's laid out several containers and is now rifling through Atsumu's drawers.

"Right side,"

Osamu opens the drawer as instructed and pulls out two sets of chopsticks.

They stare at each other for a moment, before Atsumu gingerly takes the set being handed to him.

The silence is unnerving, but Atsumu wasn't all that eager to break it. He opens the container closest to him, fixing his grip on his chopsticks before stopping short when he sees what's inside.

He glances at Osamu who's seated across from him, busying himself with something on his phone, when really Atsumu knows well enough that he's somewhat embarrassed.

Neither of them have ever been particularly good at saying sorry.

Atsumu looks down at the pieces of fatty tuna neatly arranged within the container, recognizing the food as one his brother only ever puts together on the rare occasion that he actually feels like he needs to apologize.

Finally, he cracks a small smile.

When Atsumu picks up a piece to eat, Osamu puts his phone down.

They share a look, before both of them begin to dig in to their respective meals. 

When Atsumu begins to open his mouth to speak first, Osamu beats him to it, fixing him with a level stare. "Are ya gonna tell him?"

Atsumu sighs, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. "Could'ya at least have a little more tact?"

Osamu merely shrugs. "So?"

"Probably not any time soon,"

"Why not? You and I both know that you've never had an issue with getting what you wanted,"

The piece of fatty tuna that was previously on its way to Atsumu's mouth falls as his grip slackens on his chopsticks.

He looks at Osamu in surprise, recognizing the words to be encouraging despite their disguised nonchalance.

"Are ya sayin' Omi-Omi's not completely outta my league?"

Osamu snickers. "He definitely is, but since when has the prospect of impossibility ever stopped you before?"

Atsumu sags in his seat.

"Would this have anything to do with the fact that ya have trouble with the whole... vulnerability thing?" Osamu did not come over here tonight expecting to have this conversation, but here he was.

"I don't have trouble with being vulnerable," Atsumu replies, and then proceeds to cross his arms over his chest.

Osamu fixes him with a dry look. "Could ya give me a little bit more credit?"

Atsumu really _really_ does not want to unpack whatever the fuck this is.

"Look, I'm tryin' to help ya process yer emotions here, since you clearly can't do it yourself,"

"I don't need you to-"

Osamu snaps. "' _Tsumu,"_ He takes a deep, steadying breath to calm himself down before he continues. "Look, I don't wanna have this conversation any more than you do, and I know we don't really talk about shit like this, but this is a conversation you need to have, so yer gonna sit there and listen to me,"

Atsumu puts down his chopsticks, suddenly no longer very hungry. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

"Y'know, to anyone that doesn't know you any better, they'd think that yer ability to shit-talk a storm is you not having any self-preservation, but I know you do. You just... manifest it in a different way," Osamu gives a thoughtful pause.

"Bein' twins and all, and with us growing up literally side-by-side and being surrounded by the same people... I think I'm the only person who really, actually _knows_ you, and that's because you weren't given a choice. I'm yer brother, so I'm obligated to stick around despite all yer bullshit,"

Atsumu smiles ruefully. "Gee, thanks,"

Osamu sighs, dragging a hand down his face. Why was this so fucking hard?

"I can't believe I'm actually sayin' this right now, but yer actually not as bad as ya make yerself out to be,"

Well. That was surprising. It takes a conscious effort on Atsumu's part for his mouth not to fall open.

"Ya sorta do this thing, and I'm not even sure if ya know you do it, but it's like when you first meet someone, ya make yerself the world's biggest asshole before ya actually start to.. ease up," Osamu was going to say soften up, but that was too nice a word to describe it, "It's like you want to put people through some kind of test to pick out who's actually willing to stick around," After a moment, he decides to add, "'s weird,"

The look Atsumu gives his brother is nothing short of incredulous. "When have I ever done that?"

"Can ya name one friend you have that _didn't_ initially hate you?"

Atsumu thinks.

And thinks.

And _thinks._

"Bokkun?"

"He doesn't count. Bokuto's one of those people that genuinely doesn't hate anybody,"

"Then I got nothin',"

"Yer making my point for me, thanks,"

Atsumu takes a moment to absorb everything Osamu just said. "Yer sayin'... I haze people into becomin' friends with me?"

Osamu snorts. "I guess so, yeah. And because of that, yer so used..yer so used to other people adjustin' to accommodate you all the time, without you even noticing it. Based on what I've seen, it could go a number of ways,"

"Enlighten me,"

Osamu swallows around a mouthful of food before he speaks. "One, they either fuck right off because they can't stand you, two— they become immune, and learn how to deal with ya, i.e. Rintarou, three: they're too nice, like, let's say Hinata or Bokuto, or four— they see right through ya, which would be me," He sips his water. "Kita-san probably belongs in that category too,"

"'m sorry, but I'm still not quite following. What does this hafta do with me bein' vulnerable?"

Osamu breathes out a heavy sigh, tired. "'m sayin', any normal person wouldn't go through all that trouble to— as you put it 'haze' someone before deeming them worthy of bein' yer friend. Seriously 'Tsumu. The fuck's up with that?"

Atsumu prods at his food. "Listen, I didn't even know I did that before _you_ told me. How the fuck am I supposed t'know?"

Osamu shakes his head, exasperated. "That's also what I mean by, contrary to popular belief, ya do have a sense for self-preservation, except where other people generally use it to avoid life-threatenin' danger, ya use it to avoid getting yer feelings hurt by doing all of that... whatever the fuck that is. Why can't ya make friends like a normal person?"

Atsumu finds that he doesn't have much to say. "Well that's... certainly a lot to take in," He stares at his unfinished pieces of fatty tuna still in their container, beginning to condensate.

"Seriously," Osamu starts, muffled through the food he's currently working on chewing in his mouth. "Why do you have to be so intense about everythin'? I promise, no one's out to get ya... 'cept for maybe me,"

At that, Atsumu breaks into a grin. "Aw, 'Samu, are ya worried about me? It's okay, you don't hafta pretend, I know ya love me,"

Osamu scowls. "I just want ya to go on 'nd find yerself a relationship so ya don't get all pissy about mine all the time," Which is really just him saying, _I know you're lonely, Atsumu. I can't be the only person you trust._ "*God knows what you'd do without me,"

Atsumu's grin eases into something softer at the corners. "Let's hope I never hafta find out,"

Osamu wrinkles his nose. "Don't be gross,"

* * *

Atsumu yawns, shoving his hands into the pockets of his MSBY jacket, fighting back a chill against the early-morning air.

After Osamu had left the night before, he had only stayed up for another hour or so to pack his overnight bag for the weekend before heading to bed. Admittedly, he hadn't slept very well given the loaded conversation the two of them had prior.

"Alright, before we board the bus," Meian cups his hands out in front of him, holding several slips of paper. "We'll draw lots to determine who's going to be sharing rooms once we get to the hotel,"

They did this every time they had to stay at a hotel.

Somehow, he's only roomed with Sakusa once or twice in the past year that he's joined the team.

He certainly wasn't expecting that he'd be doing so today.

Atsumu stares at the identical slip of paper that Sakusa's holding up between his fingers. He smiles weakly. "What're the odds, Omi-Omi?"

Sakusa's eyes narrow briefly over the edge of his mask. "You're acting weird,"

"I haven't even done anything!" Atsumu squawks.

Exactly Sakusa's point. "What's the catch?"

Atsumu snorts. "No catch. Jus' tired. Didn't sleep well last night," Right as he says so, he yawns. He's about to rub at one of his eyes when he feels something, or rather _someone_ hit the inside of his wrist. He startles. "Hey!"

Sakusa is frowning, holding his hand in front of him. "Don't you have your contacts in?"

Atsumu blinks, surprised. "Yeah," An awkward pause. He's not quite sure what to say.

Instead, he swings his backpack around from where he had it over his shoulder, unzipping the front compartment to pull out a bottle of hand-sanitizer. "Gimme yer hands,"

Sakusa stares.

Atsumu fidgets. "Well?"

Finally, Sakusa cups his hands out in front of him as Atsumu sprays a generous amount of alcohol on to his palms. Once he's finished, he puts it back in his bag.

The two of them are spared from having to talk any further by Meian announcing that it's time for them to get on the bus. Atsumu is relieved.

He declines Hinata and Bokuto's offer to sit with them like he usually would, the two of them accepting his tiredness easily and not thinking much of it when Atsumu decides to sit by himself near the back. He shrugs off his backpack, before placing it down in the seat beside him.

There's plenty of space on the bus that they're able to spread out if they want to, so Atsumu's not too worried about occupying a bench by himself.

To his surprise, Sakusa situates himself in the opposite aisle.

Atsumu pulls out his headphones from his bag, tucking them over his ears before leaning his head on the window.

Despite his best efforts to not fall asleep— for the same reason that he can't rub at his eyes, later on, he blinks his eyes open to Sakusa's shoe digging into his calf lightly.

He regrets falling asleep immediately. 

"Shit," he mutters. Tilting his head back, he squints up at Sakusa. "How long was I out for?"

"You fell asleep about 15 minutes after we left so... I'd give or take around an hour,"

"My eyes feel dry as fuck," He rifles through his bag for his eye drops, nearly sighing in relief when he feels the familiar bottle. He tilts his head back, looking up, before squeezing the bottle.

Once his eyes clear into focus, he sees that Sakusa is half-way down the aisle and that they're the only two people aside from the driver left on the bus.

He hears Sakusa utter a quiet, "Thank you," To the bus driver before descending down the steps, Atsumu right behind him, making sure to flash his own smile at the man behind the steering wheel.

On his way down, he must have stepped weirdly, because next thing he knows he's stumbling.

Right into Sakusa's back—

Who, mind you, doesn't even budge underneath the weight, and Atsumu is not at all light.

Atsumu jolts back as if he was burnt. "Sorry,"

He half-expects Sakusa to lash out at him for touching him, but he's thrown in for a loop when Sakusa merely spares him a half-hearted glare.

Now it's Atsumu's turn to look at him oddly. "Now yer the one bein' weird,"

This time, Sakusa brushes him off, moving to retrieve his hand-carry from the storage compartment beneath the bus.

Atsumu merely brought a duffel-bag for himself, but he supposes it makes sense, given all of the things Sakusa does to the hotel room before he can even begin to feel comfortable.

Coach Foster's voice cuts through the air. "Alright, get your thing sorted inside your rooms, and then right after that we're headed straight on over to the gym. Meet back down here outside the lobby in," he pauses to look at his watch. "30 minutes,"

Once they're inside, Atsumu tells Sakusa to wait while he gets their room-keys.

He hands one to Sakusa before they both make their way over to the elevators together. For some reason, the air between them is incredibly tense, and it makes Atsumu's skin crawl with discomfort.

Before the doors can close completely, someone wedges their foot in between to reveal a familiar set of vulpine eyes.

Something about the way Suna grins at him triggers his fight-or-flight response. "Sunarin," He grits, forcing a smile on his lips. "When did ya get here?"

Suna steps into the elevator before pressing one of the buttons on his right. "Just before you guys, actually," He taps his foot. "I left my water bottle on the bus,"

Atsumu grips the strap on his bag tighter when his gaze trails over to Sakusa, standing next to him.

"Are you guys rooming together?" Suna's voice is laced with false nonchalance. Atsumu wants to throttle him.

The dry tone of Sakusa's voice momentarily distracts Atsumu from glaring a hole into Suna's face. "Unfortunately,"

"You shut yer trap, Omi-kun,"

Suna's face lights up, positively delighted upon Atsumu's use of the nickname. He mouths, _Omi-kun?_ At Atsumu, mouth pulled into a shit-eating grin. 

Luckily, before Suna can say anything embarrassing, the doors chime open, announcing their arrival on to their designated floor.

Hurriedly, Atsumu steps out, resorting to nudging Sakusa with his elbow. "See ya later, Sunarin,"

Suna's knowing smile taunts him as the doors promptly slide shut.

Atsumu heads down the hallway without a second-thought, turning around once he realizes that Sakusa isn't following him.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him, amused, before turning around and heading towards the opposite wing.

Atsumu fumbles with his card, cursing under his breath upon receiving confirmation that he was indeed walking in the wrong direction.

"You're distracted today," Sakusa says, holding up the card against the keypad, turning the handle once he hears it beep with the confirmation. He produces a packet of wipes from his jacket, wiping down one of the matching set of desks before placing his belongings on top.

Atsumu flops down on the other bed, allowing a low groan to escape from his throat.

There's a dull ache at the base of his skull, and Atsumu has no doubt that it's only going to worsen throughout the day.

He opens his bag, popping a painkiller into his mouth before swallowing dry.

Sakusa stares at him. The way his eyebrows are pinched together is enough to tell Atsumu that underneath the mask, he probably looks horrified.

"What?"

"Why didn't you pour yourself a glass of water?"

"'m lazy," Atsumu opens his phone to check the time. "Ya have 15 minutes to carry-out yer cleaning ritual,"

Unbeknownst to him, Sakusa's mouth pulls into a pout beneath his mask. He can, however, feel the disdain radiating off of him in waves. He sighs.

"Look, I'll strip the sheets for ya, meanwhile you can Windex every surface on here to yer heart's content. Ya probably won't have enough time to put yer own bed sheets on, but you can do that later. Then, at least ya won't have to do so much work when we get back from the game. Are ya cool with that?" Atsumu stands, crossing the room in a few short strides to stand by the bed.

The look Sakusa gives him is unreadable, but he nods anyway.

The whole time, Atsumu focuses on trying to ignore how domestic the whole thing feels. 

Once they've finished, they make their way down to the lobby with only two minutes left to spare.

Hinata eyes the two of them curiously. "What took you guys so long?"

Atsumu glances at Sakusa, half-expecting him to answer, but he remains silent, inevitably leaving Atsumu to answer.

"I was helpin' him set-up his side of the room,"

Hinata tilts his head. "Oh," Atsumu catches the look he shares with Bokuto, who was standing nearby.

They board the bus once more, only this time, Atsumu opts to sit with Hinata and Bokuto.

Sakusa passes them as he walks further down the aisle.

When Bokuto sits down next to him, he digs his elbow into his side.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Mind tellin' me what was that about, earlier?"

Hinata and Bokuto share another look. _Again._

Atsumu snaps his fingers in front of him. "Hello, yes, I'm right here— am I missin' something?"

Bokuto smiles at him, amused. Hinata has a complicated look on his face. "Atsumu-san, I don't know if you genuinely just don't care, or if something's just managed to escape you this one time,"

"Then fill me in," He snaps, irritated.

It's Bokuto who speaks, this time around. "You said you helped Omi set-up his side of the room,"

"Yeah, and whatta 'bout it?"

Bokuto's smile widens even more. "In all of the times that I've roomed with him, Sakusa's never let me touch his side of the room. _Ever,"_

Hinata is quick to chime in. "Me too! I always ask him if he needs any help or if I can do anything for him or whatever, but he always says no,"

Atsumu swallows. His throat suddenly feels dry. "It's nothin'," He says, more so to convince himself than anything else. "Anyway, I just offered to strip his bedsheets while he wiped everythin' else down. I doubt he woulda let me help him if it weren't for the fact that he had to rush,"

"I mean... he's never had a problem with having to clean after coming back, though?" Bokuto replies.

Atsumu does not want to think about what that means. "He was lookin' pretty miserable. I figured knowin' that he had already done one round of cleanin' before we came back would put him out of his misery, even by just a little,"

"That's..." Hinata eyes him warily. "Actually considerate of you, Atsumu-san,"

"Hey! I'm plenty considerate,"

"Aw, Tsum-Tsum," Bokuto coos. "Dare I say, that's kinda sweet,"

"I guess Omi-san isn't mad at you anymore, huh Atsumu-san?"

"What? No," Atsumu looks lost. "Why would he be mad at me?"

Hinata looks at him confusedly. "Weren't you two fighting?"

Atsumu shakes his head. "No, what gave you that idea?"

"Oh," Hinata says. "I just thought... well, you weren't talking to him as much during practice this week, is all,"

"You can tell us if you two are having a," Bokuto punctuates the continuation of his sentence with an enthusiastic wriggle of his eyebrows. " _Lover's-quarrel._ We'll help you out!" The look on his face is open, —painfully earnest.

"Uh," Atsumu is very, _very_ confused. "Omi-Omi and I aren't dating," He

Hinata and Bokuto are looking at him with matching confused expressions of their own.

Atsumu swears Bokuto's hair deflates a little when he says, "Did... you guys break up?" Looking positively heart-broken.

"Bokuto-san, I think Atsumu-san means that they were never in a relationship," Hinata awkwardly corrects him. "We thought you guys wanted to keep it a secret, or something,"

Atsumu has several questions. "Yer goin' to have to explain some things to me here, Shou-kun. First of all, what gave ya the impression that me and Omi-Omi were..." He gulps. "Dating?"

"I just noticed that whenever the team goes out together, you're quieter around him. And he talks more,"

"And whenever he does agree to go out with us, it's usually after you try to convince him," Bokuto points out.

Atsumu tries to brush it off. "That's probably a coincidence,"

Bokuto is smiling at him again when he says, "Tsum-Tsum, he's declined every invitation we've given him to hang out outside of practice all week,"

"And you've been going home early, too. So we kinda figured that was why,"

"And he lets you near him more than anyone else when it comes to standing or sitting down. Not by much, but definitely closer compared to everyone else,"

Atsumu holds up a hand before either of them can continue. He'd heard enough.

This was too much. This was _too fucking much_ for him to even begin to absorb and it's barely even been a day.

"Tsum-Tsum? You alright there buddy?" Bokuto's face has now shifted into an expression akin to that of concern.

No, he was most certainly not. He wanted to go _home_ and refuse to speak to anyone until he sorts out whatever the fuck this is.

The bus jolts to a stop, signifying their arrival at the gym.

Atsumu doesn't wanna get down.

But he has to— so for now, he forces himself to compartmentalize, pushing any residual thoughts into the back of his mind, where they'll eventually come back to hit him in full force.

Atsumu is uncharacteristically quiet. Throughout the game, he pointedly ignores any concerned stares directed at him— pretends not to notice the looks Bokuto and Hinata are sharing when they think he's not looking. It's not that he's playing badly, so no one comments on it.

He goes through the motions, allowing his body to go through the motions as the world falls blissfully silent around him as he lines up for his serves.

He focuses on not letting the ball drop, focuses on getting the ball to his teammates, focuses on scoring point after point.

See, that was the thing. Whenever he played volleyball, it demanded 100% of his attention, leaving no room in his head for much else.

The game passes by in a blur, Atsumu mostly operating on auto-pilot.

They lose the fifth set when Raijin secures their final point through a block-out, courtesy of Suna.

Inwardly, Atsumu is glad that they didn't end up having to deuce. He's sure that once the adrenaline wears off, he's going to be exhausted.

Suna's the last person he shakes hands with beneath the net. He gives him a once over. Still clasping his hand, he says, "You look like hell,"

Atsumu releases his grip. "Leave me alone,"

"No, I mean it. You look like you're about to faint,"

Now that Suna mentions it, his head is pounding, and he's feeling light-headed.

"'Tsumu?" Suna ducks under the net, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your team's bench?"

If it had been anyone else, he probably would have refused, but this was Suna, and him and Osamu had taken care of him together when he was feeling particularly overworked more times than he could count.

Atsumu doesn't protest when Suna places his hand in between his shoulders, gripping one of his arms to steady him as they walked together.

Sakusa notices them first. He steps out of the way to let Suna ease him down so he could sit.

"Atsumu-san? What's wrong?" Hinata is next, sitting down next to Atsumu on the bench.

Suna looks up at the team that's beginning to gather around him. Sakusa, notably, looks concerned.

He'll keep that in mind for later. He bends down into a squat in front of Atsumu. "Which one's your water bottle?" Atsumu is obviously out of it, unable to find the strength to even muster up a proper answer.

He hears the sound of a lid being unscrewed, and moments later, a jug is pressed into Atsumu's hands, who then shakily raises it to meet his lips. Suna's hand immediately reaches up to hold the bottom, steadying it so that the setter doesn't drop it.

Hinata makes a soft sound of surprise, eyes wide and unblinking. He checks to see if anyone else has noticed, but everyone else is far too absorbed in their concern.

And it doesn't stop there. Sakusa then proceeds to pull out a pack of hard-candies from his bag, opening one of the small wrappers to give to Atsumu, whose eyebrows furrow at the sight of it.

"Eat it. It'll get your blood sugar up," Suna supplies.

Hinata watches the whole thing in disbelief. 

Atsumu then takes the piece of candy before popping it into his mouth.

Suna seems to take notice of the way that Hinata is frantically looking around, desperately looking for someone to confirm that he wasn't the only one _seeing_ this. Finally, Hinata's eyes land on him, and the two of them share a moment of understanding in the brief look shared between them.

Just then, they hear Coach Foster's voice telling them all to make way for the medic, and the team disperses in order to give Atsumu air.

Hinata remains seated on the bench next to Atsumu. Suna turns one of the fans to face Atsumu as the medic examines him.

Hinata takes note of how Sakusa doesn't immediately head off to take a shower, instead, appearing to be busy fixing his things in his bag.

The medic asks him standard questions as he takes Atsumu's temperature, such as whether or not he's eaten and _how many hours did you sleep last night?_ Before finally proceeding to place an instant ice pack on the nape of his neck.

Atsumu mindlessly sips at his water, having finished the piece of candy that Sakusa had given him earlier.

It's minutes later when Atsumu's headache has been reduced to a dull throbbing, about to take another sip—

When he notices that this is most certainly _not_ his jug.

It's bright yellow, and the bumper on the bottom is an equally neon green.

"What's wrong?" Suna asks.

He blinks at the bottle confusedly. "This isn't mine,"

Hinata is very happy to inform him that no, it isn't, and yes, it _is_ Sakusa's.

Atsumu looks at the water bottle in horror, tamping down on the instinct to drop it. On one hand, if it dented or touched the floor, Sakusa would kill him. On the other hand, he also knows that Sakusa would never let him willingly drink his water, so either way, he's fucked.

"Atsumu-san? Are you feeling any better?"

"Shoyou, quick, hand me a wipe or somethin' before Omi-Omi sees, I gotta clean it, have you seen the lid—?" A shadow casts over him. Too late.

He looks up, eyes widening when he sees that it's Sakusa looking down at him, but the little crease in between his eyebrows isn't one that Atsumu is familiar with.

If Atsumu didn't know any better, he'd think that the look on Sakusa's face was almost _concerned._

"Omi-kun, I'm sorry, I'll get you a new one, I promise—"

Atsumu is effectively cut off when Sakusa says, "Wipe it with this," voice calm as he plucks a wet-wipe from an open package.

Atsumu gulps. He takes the disposable cloth hurriedly, wiping the mouth of the jug once, twice— three times, before proceeding to wipe the rest of it, taking extra care to make sure that he doesn't miss a spot.

Once he's done, Sakusa takes the cylinder from his hands, screwing on the lid that Atsumu had anxiously been searching for just a few moments prior, and walks away.

Atsumu is left on the bench, sparing at the space in front of him that Sakusa had previously been occupying, wondering, "What the fuck just happened?"

Because Sakusa, not showing any signs of being _visibly_ upset in even the slightest? After Atsumu had not only _touched_ his water bottle, but also _drank_ from it. From the same place that Sakusa's mouth is whenever he's thirsty?

Shoyou is smiling when he stands, shaking his head.

Suna is still standing nearby, hands on his waist. Most of his teammates have filtered off the court by now. "Well I'll be damned. Looks like you might actually have a shot after all,"

Atsumu is _reeling,_ because what does Suna mean? What does this _mean?_

"If you feel up to it, we can go for a walk later once we both make it back to the hotel. Or maybe not, you know— I'd totally get it if you wouldn't wanna leave your room," Suna begins walking away, casting one last glance over his shoulder. "Come visit the shop soon," And then, he's gone.

At the dumbfounded look on Atsumu's face, Shoyou actually barks out a laugh. "Let's go, Atsumu-san. Can you walk?"

* * *

Hours later, Atsumu declines Bokuto and Hinata's invitation to stay out longer after the team had grabbed an early dinner together. He shoots Suna a quick text saying that he doesn't think he'll be able to take him up for that walk.

It's been a long day, and an even longer week. Atsumu kind of just wants to cease existing for a while.

Despite having eaten, the tension behind Atsumu's temples continued to build, and his head felt right about ready to explode. At the moment, he wanted nothing more but to be able to sprawl across his bed back in his and Sakusa's shared hotel room.

He glances at Sakusa standing in front of the elevator buttons and the fingers that he has curled around the neon handle of his jug, and feels his head throb in protest.

As soon as they make it to their room, Atsumu crawls under the covers of his bed, tucking the cover over his head, closing his eyes without much thought. He already showered earlier, and the one thing he had on his mind right now was _sleep._

It's silent, save for the rustle of Sakusa's things as he moves around the room.

He's just about to fall asleep when—

"Miya,"

And because Sakusa rarely ever calls out to him, Atsumu doesn't think twice before he's peeking over the edge of his blanket, uncaring about the state of disarray his hair might be in.

He winces at the light shining overhead, blinking several times before allowing his eyes to adjust. Across from him, Sakusa's already covered his own bed with his own bedsheets that he had brought with him. "Hm?"

When his eyes find Sakusa's face, he's wearing the same, pinched expression he had on earlier.

"Omi-kun? What's with yer face?"

"You still have your contacts in,"

It takes a moment for the sentence to register in Atsumu's brain, but once it does, all he can do is mutter a simple, "Oh,"

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him. "You must really feel like shit. This is the most... benign I've ever seen you,"

Atsumu nods, not having the energy to come up with a smart reply.

At that, Sakusa frowns. "Have you drank anything else for your headache aside from the pill you popped earlier?" He asks, before turning around.

Atsumu shakes his head no.

Much to his surprise, when he's facing Atsumu again, Sakusa is clutching something in his left hand and holding his jug in his right.

He crosses the short distance across the room, stopping in the space between their beds. "Drink this," He opens his palm to reveal a pill, before unscrewing the lid on his jug.

Sakusa frowns when Atsumu doesn't move. "Can you sit up?"

Atsumu blinks out of his stupor, propping himself up on his elbow and reaching to pinch the little cylinder in Sakusa's palm before popping it in his mouth.

He hesitates when he reaches for the bright yellow bottle, before the bitterness of the pill quickly settles in and has him gripping it in one of his hands to guzzle down the water. "Thanks,"

Atsumu doesn't know what to do with Sakusa's newfound kindness. He collapses back into the sheets.

Sakusa tilts his head to the side, eyes inquisitive, the curls atop his head bouncing a little with the movement. "You're much more tolerable like this. I kinda wish you had headaches more often,"

The way he says it is still a little too _soft_ compared to what Atsumu is used to, but this— Atsumu knows what to do with this. He closes his eyes. "Yer mean Omi-kun," Then, after a pause, he doesn't think much of it when he adds, "But that wouldn't be so bad, if it means I'll have you to take care of me,"

Sakusa's face turns deadpan. "Funny you say that, considering you've been ignoring me all week,"

Atsumu's eyes fly open. "What are ya talkin' about? I haven't been ignoring you,"

Sakusa is rolling is eyes at him when he sits down on the edge of his own bed, pulling his knees close to his chest to rest his chin on top of them. "I'm not stupid, Miya. You've barely spoken to me outside of practice this week after I gave you the yakisoba," He frowns. "Did you not like it?"

Atsumu actually has to laugh at that, though it makes his head throb.

Sakusa seems to shrink a little further into himself from where he's seated.

"Wait," Atsumu blinks. Was he pouting? "Yer serious?"

Sakusa's eyes flit towards a spot on the floor.

"'Course I liked it Omi-Omi. You made it, after all,"

Sakusa's shoulders slump a little, relaxing. "Then give me back my container,"

Atsumu snickers. "I was wonderin' when ya'd ask for it,"

"It's not like I could help it. You were doing a really good job at avoiding me,"

Atsumu closes his eyes again. "'M surprised yer complainin' at all, Omi-kun. Thought ya woulda appreciated it,"

"I was right then,"

"About what?"

"You were ignoring me,"

Atsumu winks an eye open to peer at him. "Are you _sulking?"_

Sakusa bristles, unfolding from where he was previously hunched over, arms coming up behind him to support his own weight. "You should take out your contacts. You've been wearing them for too long,"

"Yer awfully concerned. Where's this all coming from?"

The look on Sakusa's face is yet again unreadable. He makes no move to answer.

Atsumu sighs, flipping the duvet so he can swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He hobbles over to his beg, movements slow and heavy as he fetches the clear ziplock bag holding all his toiletries, as well as his glasses.

He then makes his way over to the bathroom, setting his things down on the counter and opening his lens case. He's just finished removing the lens from the right eye when his head starts _pounding_ viciously. He has to wait for it to subside before he's sliding his glasses on to his face, brushing his teeth, and trudging back to bed. 

He doesn't flop on it this time, because that's the equivalent to his head being throttled at the moment, and he wasn't all too sure that he wasn't about to throw up.

Atsumu hears Sakusa shuffling around, and a moment later, the lights are turned off. "Thanks," he whispers.

"Can I turn on the lamp?"

"Sure,"

There's a soft click before the dim light floods the room.

Once again, Atsumu winks one eye open to peer at Sakusa, who was fixated at him intently. "Jeez Omi-Omi. Quit starin' at me. I might think ya like me," He jeers.

" _Stop_ that," Sakusa snaps, voice sharp, cutting through the stillness of the room.

Atsumu startles, shoulders jumping slightly. Slowly, he shifts his body so that he's laying on his side so he can look at Sakusa properly. "Stop what?"

"The _flirting,"_ Not if you don't mean it, is what Sakusa doesn't say.

Atsumu blinks, feeling his heart sink. "'M sorry, Omi-kun," His voice entirely too soft for his liking. "I didn't realize it bothered ya that much," And then, because he's a coward, "If it makes ya feel any better, I was only kiddin',"

Sakusa looks at him, incredulous. "Are you serious right now? That doesn't make me feel any better, you absolute _dick._ I can't believe you,"

Atsumu props himself up on an elbow when Sakusa starts pacing at the foot of his bed. "Omi-kun?"

" _Kidding?_ Is that what you've been doing this whole time?" Sakusa's hand flies to his mouth, nipping at the skin around his nails. "You can't honestly tell me that this has just been some big joke to you,"

Atsumu can do nothing but stare, wide-eyed, at Sakusa slowly losing his composure.

"I thought you were serious. And so I waited for you to grow a pair and finally ask me out, but I guess not,"

Atsumu's jaw drops. Was he hallucinating? This was one hell of a migraine. _"What?"_

Sakusa stops pacing, arms crossed over his chest. The look on his face downright murderous, yet somehow vulnerable. "I actually like you, you _asshole._ It's a the biggest travesty of the century,"

For a moment, Atsumu is stunned. —And then he laughs. Honest to god, _laughs._ "I must be dreamin' cos no way in hell is this real," He hiccups, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Right, I should wake up, any second now,"

Atsumu is convinced that the past— what, thirty minutes? —Are entirely unreal, because Sakusa, taking care of him? While he felt like shit? Telling him he _liked_ him? That stuff was reserved for the confines of his own mind, in (relative) safety.

He grins at 'dream' Sakusa frantically whipping around, searching for something.

Finally, he settles on one of the throw pillows courtesy of the hotel, not unlike the one on Atsumu's own. Not quite in his right mind, he doesn't quite register the way Sakusa is twisting his torso before swiftly pivoting forward.

The pillow hits Atsumu square in his face, jostling his glasses that he forgot that he even had on.

"How's that for a dream?" He deadpans, taking a steadying breath.

"One week," Sakusa says. "One week of you not speaking to me and me vehemently denying that you weren't the reason why I was in such a bad mood the whole time," He scoffs. "You wouldn't even _look_ at me, and it... it bothered me,"

Atsumu straightens his glasses from where they had gone askew, and for the first time in a week, _really_ looks at him.

The line of his mouth is drawn into a tight line. The dark pools of his eyes swirl with something Atsumu still can't quite wrap his head around— rather, is too scared to name.

There's that little crease between his eyebrows from where they're pinched together (as they often are when he's speaking to Atsumu, it seems). Atsumu wants to kiss it.

His shoulders are tensed, and his hands are clenched tightly into fists, his forearms straining with the effort.

Atsumu wants to smooth his hands over the span of his torso— to coax the muscles to relax.

Everything about Sakusa screams discomfort, and Atsumu wants to drape himself over him— the weight of him against Sakusa's back comforting.

"I didn't know,"

Not the best way to start, but it was something.

Sakusa exhales a shaky breath. "I thought you did," He sits down at the foot of his own bed, facing the door to the bathroom. Atsumu wants him to turn around. "After Monday..."

Atsumu snorts weakly. "It wasn't because of the yakisoba, Omi-kun,"

He's not sure, but Atsumu thinks he sees the tips of Sakusa's ears flush pink.

"Frankly, I'm still kinda tryin' to wrap my head around the fact that ya like me,"

Somehow, the look Sakusa gives him is accusing. "I cooked you _food,_ "

And Atsumu laughs, _again,_ though now is not the time. "And is that supposed to be equivalent to a confession from ya, Omi-Omi?"

Sakusa sighs angrily. "It _wasn't_. That was me trying to take the initiative since you've never had the gall to do anything more than shamelessly flirt,"

"...My bad,"

Sakusa scoffs. "Yeah," he says dryly. "And then you wouldn't speak to me for a whole week," He twists back around so he's facing the bathroom door once more. "So you can forget I said any of this. I will _kill_ you if you speak a word about this to anyone. They won't be able to find a body,"

Suddenly, Atsumu is hurriedly pushing the covers off his body, clumsily stumbling onto his feet before rushing towards the bathroom.

Sakusa moves purely on instinct, his feet carrying him towards the door. "Miya are you al—"

Atsumu holds up a finger while simultaneously plucking his glasses from his face to hold them in his left hand. "Hold that thought," is sitting on the floor, the toilet seat pushed up together with the cover. "I think 'm about to hurl,"

Atsumu does not see Sakusa's eyes widen with worry, but he feels his presence leave the door frame not a moment sooner.

Which is good, because then the contents of Atsumu's stomach proceed to make his way up his throat and directly into the toilet bowl.

Through his haze, he manages to duck his head as low as possible, so as to minimize the distance between him and the water and to avoid making a mess. As soon as he's done, he blindly reaches around for the handle to flush the toilet.

He slumps against the side of it, his forehead pillowed on his arms. The back of his neck feels sticky with sweat.

He must have drifted off at some point, because when he comes to, he's been propped up against the wall and Sakusa is gently prying his glasses away from his fingers. He startles so hard he hits the back of his head with a whimper.

Sakusa clicks his tongue, from beneath his mask, guiding Atsumu's limbs into a more comfortable position.

Atsumu distantly realizes that he's now wearing a pair of disposable gloves.

"'m sorry," Atsumu slurs.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I spread my germs everywhere,"

"Not everywhere, just the toilet,"

Small mercies.

Sakusa stands up from where he was squatting in front of the setter before proceeding to wet one of the complimentary face towels near the sink.

He bends at the knees once more, careful to keep his balance so as not to touch the floor. "You owe me a new box of gloves, by the way. These are my last pair,"

"Noted. You prefer nitrile ones over latex, right?"

Sakusa is about to wipe his face when he stills. "...Yeah," His left hand is resting on top of Atsumu's head where he's pushed up his bangs, while his right hand that's clutching the damp face towel is left hovering midair.

Atsumu's eyelids flutter shut, too tired to keep his eyes open. "Ya don't have to be so surprised," _I pay attention to you_ , is what he doesn't say.

Sakusa finds that he has nothing to respond to that, and at this point he's gently sliding the cold cloth over Atsumu's face, wiping away the light sheen of sweat.

After a moment, Atsumu adds, "Although I did apparently completely miss the part where ya have a crush on me,"

Sakusa pulls away. "I thought I told you to forget about that," He snaps.

Atsumu opens his eyes, cracking an easy smile. "No way. I'm never lettin' you live this down. Ya have to take responsibility Omi-Omi,"

He recognizes the exact moment that the words seem to register.

It's hidden underneath his mask, but Atsumu's stared at Sakusa enough to know— mask, no mask: what his eyes look like when he smiles. Neither of them says anything more.

Once he's finished, Sakusa twists to dump the used towel in the laundry basket in the corner. Then, he's gingerly sliding Atsumu's glasses back on to his face.

Atsumu blinks, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. When they do, there's no stopping the soft, "Oh," that escapes him.

"What's wrong?" Sakusa sounds so _concerned,_ when really, he shouldn't be, because Atsumu's just really fucking hopeless.

After a moment, he decides to reply, "...Nothing. It's just... 'm not used to havin' ya so close," And then, when Sakusa backs away: "No, no, it's good... ya don't have to move away, or anythin'— unless ya want to. I don't really mind, I like lookin' at ya. 's nice,"

Sakusa stares at him.

And then, his shoulders start shaking. It takes a moment for Atsumu to realize that Sakusa is laughing.

Atsumu is helpless to the disgustingly sweet expression that adorns his face, and to the accompanying dopey grin that overtakes him.

He's half-delirious sitting on a hotel bathroom floor, not entirely sure what time it is. Staring at Sakusa in front of him, he feels a little less lonely.

When they've both calmed down, Sakusa helps Atsumu stand up.

To Atsumu's surprise, Sakusa waits for him to finish brushing his teeth (he swishes some mouthwash for good measure), before helping him back into his bed.

Sakusa seems more at ease now. "How's your head?" He asks.

"Still hurts,"

Sakusa seemingly hesitates, floundering, "Is it okay if—" His hands twitch where they're handing by his sides. "Can I—" He inhales sharply, looking frustrated from what Atsumu can tell over the edge of his mask.

Atsumu opens his mouth to say something, but Sakusa swiftly cuts him off. "Move over,"

Confused, Atsumu does as he's told.

Sakusa looks to be fighting an internal battle with himself as he unhooks his mask from behind his ears. "Close your eyes— and don't say anything stupid,"

Atsumu obediently follows, snickering softly. He hears the spritz of a bottle, and the smell of alcohol fills his nose.

He feels a weight shift the bed, and his heart nearly leaps into his throat.

A moment later, his head is being guided— on to something, somewhere. Atsumu has a pretty good idea of what it is, but he's not quite sure he would survive the confirmation.

Next thing he knows, a hand is carding through his hair, tugging softly at the root before releasing it gently.

Atsumu jolts, eyes flying open, but other than that he didn't dare move. "Omi-kun—?"

"Shut up, don't say _anything,"_ Sakusa's voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "Is... Is this okay?"

Atsumu shoots up, looking back at him with an incredulous expression on his face, glasses lopsided and hair a mess. "Is this _okay?_ You tell _me,"_

"You said your head still hurt,"

"Yeah, but—"

"Lay back down," Sakusa sounds a little exasperated, but the look on his face tells Atsumu that he's amused. 

Tentatively, Atsumu places his head on Sakusa's lap once more.

Sakusa's hand resumes its ministrations, and a moment later Atsumu feels himself go lax, completely boneless with his head in Sakusa's lap. "...My mom used to do this to me whenever I'd have a headache as a kid," 

Even when Atsumu throws one of his arms across Sakusa's legs, his fingers don't stop moving in Atsumu's hair.

"'m still not all convinced that this isn't a very _very_ good dream,"

Sakusa hums, fingers now gently digging into Atsumu's scalp in a way that has him scooting even closer. "You still haven't really told me why you avoided me all week,"

"...Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"Atsumu," Sakusa's hand is gone from his hair. Atsumu instantly mourns the loss of it.

Atsumu's face heats up at the use of his given name, feeling as if he's been backed into a corner. "Fine," He closes his eyes. "But could ya keep doin' that? It feels nice,"

When Sakusa doesn't move, Atsumu sighs. "Please. I promise I'll explain if ya do," And it'll be easier for him to talk about it when he has something else to focus on.

"Bokkun's plannin' on proposing to Akaashi soon," He starts, choosing his words carefully. "It made me feel weird. And then I got to thinkin' about how everyone else on the team just... _has_ somebody, and I don't,"

When Sakusa doesn't say anything, he continues, "So anyway, after coach booted me from practice, I was in a pretty weird mood. I want to go see 'Samu. I haven't really... been visitin' as often, because every time I see him and Sunarin together it just reminds me that he has somethin' that I don't— and I know it's stupid, but yeah I just..."

His fingers curl into the fabric of Sakusa's sweatpants, clutching the fabric tightly. "Felt envious," He grits. "Up until that point I'd basically convinced myself that you were never going to like me back, so. This is all coming to me as a surprise,"

"You're stupid," Sakusa deadpans.

When Atsumu tries to lift his head off of Sakusa's lap, he's shoved back down. "Hey!"

"No, I mean it. You remember that time you asked me if you made me uncomfortable? It was a month or two after I started training with the team," Atsumu nods. "And what did I say?"

"...No," Though Sakusa had looked like he had swallowed something spectacularly bitter at the time.

"You were so... earnest. You just," Sakusa pauses, searching for the right words. "Looked like you cared so _much_. **And it really didn't bother me at all until this week. I'd briefly entertained the thought that you were just messing with me, but even I knew you weren't that big of an asshole,"

Atsumu feels wholly embarrassed. "Yeah I... hope it's clear by now that I wasn't kiddin'," He says, sheepish.

Sakusa snorts. "Yeah, I gathered by now. I didn't believe you for a second," His thumb digs into the side of Atsumu's neck, massaging the muscle gently. "Why'd you lie?"

"I'm not very good at talking about my feelings," Atsumu admits, squirming slightly. "'Samu tells me I have an issue with being vulnerable, which is true— but I didn't really give it much thought until recently,

"My last relationship... he broke up with me because I was shit at the whole communication thing. Haven't been in a relationship since. I'd go visit a bar every once in a while to let off some steam, but nothin' serious,"

"You're doing it right now?" The way Sakusa says it makes it sound more like a statement than a question.

"I—" Atsumu's eyes blink open at the realization. "Yeah," He swallows. "Yeah, I guess I am,"

A few beats of silence pass between them, and Atsumu surprises even himself to find that he has more to say. "Hey Omi-Omi, can I tell you something?"

Sakusa makes a non-committal sound as if to say 'go ahead'.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm fuckin terrified of messing this up. Especially because I know I can be kind of hard to reach, sometimes," He gnaws at his bottom lip. "But if you're willing to try this— us, then... I'm going to try really hard not to fuck this up,"

"I usually hate feeling like I'm exposed— and right now I feel right about stripped bare... a bit raw around the edges,"

Atsumu shuffles around until his head is facing the ceiling, blinks his eyes open to see Sakusa staring down at him with an expression that Atsumu's never seen on his face before. "But since it's you... it's not awful,"

"What I'm tryin' to say is that— I know relationships are all about trusting the other person enough to feel comfortable to show them a side of yourself that you don't feel like you can show anyone else... and I do. Feel comfortable, I mean. "

Atsumu can't bear to look at Sakusa when he still has that look on his face, so he opts to shift his gaze towards the ceiling. "It kinds feels like I'm givin' you a part of myself. Is that weird?"

He glances at Sakusa's face. "It's probably weird, and even weirder that I find that I don't actually mind. I'm still scared shitless, but other than that I feel okay, I think,"

"I thought you said you were bad at communicating,"

"I did,"

"Then what do you call that little spiel you just did?"

"Me laying my heart out for ya?" And then, "Oh,"

Sakusa smiles. "Sounds to me like you have no problem communicating at all," He shifts around a little in his seat, legs beginning to fall asleep. "It's not like either of us are in any particular rush,"

"If there is one thing that you and I have in common, it's that neither of us are the type to do things half-assed, and I think it's safe to assume that this isn't going to be any different," Sakusa nudges Atsumu's cheek (which was surprisingly soft— storing that information for future reference), so that the two of them can look at each other. "We'll see it through,"

Atsumu blinks up at him in surprise. "Ya sure have a lot of faith in us, Omi-Omi,"

Sakusa merely raises an eyebrow at him. "Don't you?" For once, Atsumu is rendered speechless, a feat not achieved by many. "For the record, I feel the same way. I have a hard time opening up, too," He pauses, as if in thought. "But I suppose it... shouldn't be hard, if it's you,"

Atsumu suddenly throws an arm across his face, saying, "God," followed by a disbelieving laugh that bubbles from his mouth. "I feel like I've cycled through so many emotions in the past couple of hours,"

Sakusa quietly huffs a laugh of his own. "Sorry," He says, though he finds that he's not really sorry at all. "Though I do have to say that I didn't think that you were this dense,"

"I could say the same for you, ya know?"

"No, that's different. I knew that you liked me to some extent, I just wasn't sure if you were serious about it. You, on the other hand, sound like you completely had no idea,"

Atsumu grumbles. "Okay, ya win that one. Although how else was I supposed to know that ya liked me back, Omi-kun?"

Sakusa hums. "I suppose that's true. I didn't want to do anything until I was sure about how you felt,"

"So... earlier..."

"I just needed you to grow a pair and be honest about it,"

"Figures. I get why ya yelled at me,"

"I did not _yell_ at you,"

"Ya did,"

"I did not,"

"Ya raised yer voice at me. There, are ya happy?"

"Do you want me to keep touching your hair or not?"

"No," Atsumu drawls. "Keep doin' it," Sakusa bites back a smile as he combs his fingers through the strands. "I'd never seen ya so... frazzled, before," 

"Yeah, well. You really do have a knack for testing my patience,"

"But you like me anyway," Atsumu sing-songs.

Sakusa lets out a long-suffering sigh. "But I like you, anyway,"

Atsumu lets out a sound as if he's realized something. "Wait, so— if ya wanted to wait, then..." He looks at Sakusa questioningly. "What made ya sure?"

Sakusa looks down at Atsumu with a complicated mix of amusement and bewilderment on his face. "First it was when you offered to strip the sheets. Then when you panicked once you realized that you were drinking from my water bottle— and then the gloves," There was something so painfully candid about Atsumu in each of the moments that he'd mentioned.

And that was the worst part— that Asumu hadn't even seemed like he'd given any of these things much thought: seemingly adapting to Sakusa with ease.

Atsumu thinks of Osamu seated across from him in his apartment: ... _yer so used to other people adjustin' to accommodate you all the time, without you even noticing it._

He looks at Sakusa and thinks: he doesn't mind having to be the one that adjusts, this time.

Sensing the end of their conversation, Atsumu yawns, suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

"Go to sleep," Sakusa says, deft fingers brushing against the sides of Atsumu's face to slide off his glasses, gently folding them closed.

Atsumu makes no move to stop him, burrowing his nose into the soft material of Sakusa's shirt. "G'night Omi-Omi," he whispers.

"Good night, Atsumu,"

Atsumu's last thought before he falling asleep completely is that his headache is nowhere to be found.

* * *

A week after he stormed out of Onigiri Miya, Atsumu finds himself pushing open the door to the store after a long day of practice.

This time, he no longer feels like he has a storm cloud hanging over his head, and he finds that for the first time in a while, he's not dreading spending the next few hours in his brother's company.

Because this time, he's not alone.

Atsumu ushers Sakusa towards one of the stools by the counter before occupying the seat next to him. When Osamu turns around, he revels in the look of surprise that flits across his face.

"You brought company," He says, before turning to face Sakusa. "What can I get ya, Sakusa-kun?"

"Call me Sakusa. You wouldn't happen to have any umeboshi, would you?"

"What kind of onigiri shop would this be if I didn't?" Osamu flashes an easy smile that quickly shifts into a frown when he looks at his twin. "Your usual, I presume?"

"Ya know it,"

Osamu squints at Atsumu suspiciously, finding the easy acquiescence odd. "What, yer not gonna be a shithead about it?" He says, sparing a glance at Sakusa seated beside him.

"Do ya want me to be?"

Osamu tilts his head, looking interested. "...Yer wearin' yer glasses,"

"Yeah, whatta 'bout it?"

"You _hate_ wearin' your glasses. If it were up to you you'd never take yer contacts off,"

Atsumu shrugs, feeling a grin tug at the corner of his mouth when he senses Sakusa shift in his seat beside him. He recalls the conversation they had the morning they were scheduled to leave the hotel.

_Just as Sakusa's finished packing the last of his things, he rounded back towards the bathroom to double-check that he hadn't left anything behind._

_Atsumu is standing in front of the mirror, about to open his contact lens case when Sakusa stops him._

_He blinks at Sakusa's reflection in the mirror. "Why?"_

_"You should wear your glasses more often.... they suit you,"_

_Atsumu stares mouth falling open, a little dumbfounded. Nonetheless, he puts his case together with the rest of his toiletries before sliding his glasses on. "Okay," He swallows, throat feeling oddly tight. "I knew ya liked seein' me in my glasses, Omi-kun," Though it had sounded wobbly even to his own ears._

Osamu releases a long-suffering sigh. He angles to face Sakusa once more. "I'm sorry, is he givin' you much trouble?"

Sakusa snorts. "It's Atsumu. Always,"

Osamu seems to approve of this answer, nodding his head solemnly. "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, Sakusa,"

Atsumu (very maturely) sticks out his tongue, blowing a raspberry. Osamu ignores him in favor of preparing their food.

He feels content to listen to Osamu and Sakusa exchange small-talk, satisfied to see that the two got along well despite it coming at Atsumu's expense.

It gets worse when shortly after, Rintarou arrives, joining his boyfriend behind the counter.

"This was a mistake," Atsumu says, though there's no real heat behind it. "I should never have brought ya here Omi-kun, the two of them are a bad influence,"

"I'd still make fun of you whether or not Osamu or Suna were here," Sakusa shrugs, a mischievious glint in his eye.

Atsumu grunts, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Opening it, he sees that he's received a text message from Bokuto.

**from: bokkun ||** **subject: proposal!!!**

**hey hey hey tsum-tsum!!! I think I kind of have an idea on what to do for keiji**

**can we hang-out after practice tomorrow to iron out the details?**

**to: bokkun ||** **re: proposal!!!**

**sure thing. my place?**

**from: bokkun || re: proposal!!!**

**cool cool. see u tmrw!**

With that sorted out, he closes his phone and places it face-down on the counter just in time for Osamu to place his plate of onigiri down on the counter. "Yer not gonna storm outta here like ya did last week, are you?"

Atsumu winces at the memory. "Not my best day," when he and Osamu meet eyes, they share a meaningful look between them before Suna is leaning over his boyfriend's shoulder.

"It's all in good fun, 'Tsumu. You know we care about you, even if you are a shithead,"

When Atsumu turns to look at Sakusa beside him, he's surprised to find that the latter is already looking at him. He smiles, saying, "Yeah, I know," before picking up the triangle-shaped rice on the plate in front of him to take a bite.

"How about we all eat dinner together after you close up?" He glances at Sakusa beside him. "We can go back to my place and 'Samu and I can cook,"

Surprisingly enough, Osamu agrees easily. "Sure. We can stop by the grocery on the way,"

Sakusa looks at Atsumu, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You can cook? Why didn't I know that?"

"Not as good as 'Samu, obviously," He begrudgingly admits. "But I know a thing or two," 

Swallowing around his mouthful of food, Atsumu flashes Sakusa a sly smile. "There's still lot for you to learn about me, Omi-kun."

**Author's Note:**

> comments would be very much appreciated! come yell at me on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/basiIIeia)
> 
> ++ lunasolaris4 on twitter took the time to draw two scenes from the fic! the first is the scene in the bathroom with [ atsumu on the floor, ](https://twitter.com/lunasolaris4/status/1327645010796236800?s=20) and the second is [ with atsumu's head on sakusa's lap. ](https://twitter.com/lunasolaris4/status/1328255501746933760?s=20) please show her some love!!!


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